Hurt
by j'adore macabre
Summary: Wes and Travis are split apart, and Travis finds himself in a vulnerable situation. Now Wes must help a broken Travis pick up the pieces. Warnings: severe Travis abuse, kidnapping, dark themes. Previously named: The Screams That Keep Us Awake
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Probably heavy bromance in the future, but you slash readers can read it any way you want. This will only be two or three chapters, posted over the next day. Reviews feed my starving soul.**

_Captain Mike Sutton: "Without Wes**, **Travis will wind up getting himself killed**. **Without Travis,Wes will over think himself and never make an arrest again**."**_

"That's it." Sutton's weary voice echoed off the walls of his office as he rose to his feet.

Travis and Wes paused, both half out of their seats and nostrils flaring. Their fists were clenched and they were a word away from blows. The Detectives waited a beat before they slowly sat back down, still glaring at one another.

"I've had it with the both of you. From now on, Travis, you'll be with Waltham. Wes, you're with DiMarco." Sutton took his seat and gave his best detectives his worst look.

The pair looked at their captain with disbelief etched over their faces.

"Wait, Cap, —" Travis began.

"—you can't split us up." Wes finished.

Sutton gave them a hard stare. "I can and I did. It's effective until further notice. Now leave; I have better things to do than babysit the two of you."

"But, Cap'n—" Wes started.

Travis finished. "We're your best detectives."

"With all due respect, sir, it's…" Wes sighed, at a loss for a proper word.

"Idiotic…sir." Travis said. "We're partners."

"I don't care if you're conjoined twins." Sutton yelled. "If the two of you had the brains to _act_ like partners before I split you apart, it wouldn't come to this."

"Cap—" They tried for one last ditch plea.

"No, that's it. Out of my office. _Now_." The Captain snapped. He gave a heavy sigh, and rubbed his brow with the knuckle of his thumb.

It was barely a week later, and Wes came in to a near silent office. His brow furrowed in confusion, but no one would meet his eye until he walked by the Captain's office. Sutton called him in.

"Waltham's been killed." Sutton said bluntly. There was no easing into it, no asking him to take a seat. He just said it. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.

"Oh, geez, Captain." Wes breathed. "I mean, I only met him once but…what about his partn—"

It hit him, ike a literal hammer to the stomach. There was no air left in his lungs. Wes grabbed hold of the chair, his exhale coming out a tiny squeak. The room spun.

"Take a seat, son." Sutton gently pushed him onto the chair.

Wes held his head in his hands, dragging his fingernails over his scalp. "Travis is dead." He choked out.

"Missing." Sutton corrected. "And as far as I'm concerned, no body means no dead cop."

"How'd it happen?"

"We're still not sure." The Captain took a seat behind his desk. "They were investigating the homicides of the three college girls then the call comes in. Different MO; Waltham was stabbed." Sutton sniffed, eyes red-rimmed.

"Where was he killed? Do you have witnesses? Suspects?"

Sutton exhaled slowly. "Wes, go home. I've got half the station on this."

"That's not enough." The Detective snapped, looking up sharply.

The Captain's face immediately turned into a mask of anger. "Hey, as much as I wish it could, crime does not stop because Travis is missing. I have more case loads than this precinct can handle, and a hundred people asking me where their loved ones are, when their _killers_ will be brought to justice. So, if you think I haven't done everything I can to help Travis then, so help me—" Sutton's voice hitched and he stopped short, rubbing a hand roughly over his jaw as he forced himself into a calmer state. "Go home, Wes. That's an order." He breathed.

Wes stood, fist clenched and jaw working with silent fury. Without another word, he stalked out of the office. He managed to make it to his car without incident, but as soon as he threw himself into the seat, he struck the steering wheel repeatedly. He hit the wheel until it his hand grew numb and every blow sent sharp tingling sensations up to his elbow. All he wanted was a distraction, something to keep his mind off everything that had happened in the passed ten minutes. It did not work.

"God, Travis." Wes groaned as he let his head fall to rest on the steering wheel with a dull thud.

He was nursing a bottle of Scotch when the knock came at his door. He tried ignoring it; there was only one person he wanted to see, and he would not be knocking on his door. The knocks persisted and, as much as he wanted to, he could not ignore them any longer.

"Go. Away." Wes yelled before he downed the rest of his drink in one go.

"Wes, it's Alex." Her familiar voice called through the door. "Please, let me in. I heard what happened."

"Alex…" The Detective poured another drink. "I can't…I just _can't_ right now."

"Wes, please open the door." Came Dr. Ryan's voice. "You haven't been answering your phone. We're worried about you."

Wes snorted. "Just…go home. I'm…fine. You can leave."

"I had really hoped we wouldn't get to this."

There was a click of the lock and the creak of his door opening. Wes groaned inwardly and put his drink aside. He glared as he stood, stopping them before they came too far inside.

"I'm sorry." Alex cried as she ran to him. "I'm so sorry. We came as soon as Sutton called."

Wes had one hand in his pocket and the other on the small of Alex's back. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck, trying to get the comfort he once did from her. He could not so he pulled away.

"I'm terribly sorry to hear about Travis." Dr. Ryan looked at him and her eyes were brimmed with tears. "If there's anything we can do." Her hands were clasped piteously.

"I'm sure Sutton will find him." Alex assured him, brushing a tear from her cheek.

Wes looked away. "Dead or alive?" He sat back down, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Dr. Ryan moved to stand in front of him. "I can't believe you'd actually give up like this."

"Give up?" Wes looked at her sharply, his eyes flashing with rage and disgust. "I've been thrown out of the station until further orders, I can't look for clues and no one will tell me anything because they could get suspended. Worse, my new _partner_ won't give me anything to work with. So, don't tell me I've given up because I've been road blocked." He snapped.

"Wes, we're here to help you." Alex said softly.

"No, you're here to console me." Wes leapt to his feet to pace the room, drink back in his hand. "You come here acting like…like Travis is already dead." His voice hitched and he held a hand over his eyes to stop the flood of tears threatening to come.

"He isn't dead." Ryan assured him.

"What if he is?" Wes roared, throwing the glass across the room. It shattered on the wall in a spray of glass and alcohol. He scrubbed a hand furiously over his face as he continued his pacing. "Waltham wasn't shot, he was stabbed. So, there were either two or something happened to Travis."

"But there's no body." Alex interjected. "So he's still a alive."

"Absence of a body does not mean there isn't one. Travis never would have just left his partner — left anyone — to die. He could have been hurt, unable to call for backup. They may just not have found him yet."

"Perhaps someone else rendered him incapable of helping?" Ryan asked.

"But why kill Waltham but not Travis?" Alex asked.

"He could have been alerted. Maybe the killer only wanted one person."

Wes took his bottom lip between his teeth and bit reflectively. "But why kidnap someone, a Detective, and kill the other?" The look he gave them said he already knew the answer.

"Ransom." Alex answered. "Killing Detective Waltham shows they're serious about doing harm."

Wes shook his head. "There's no ransom. That much I do know. I think the killer got the advantage over Travis then killed Waltham. He goes back to finish the job but can't, killing someone who's _unconscious,_ perhaps, is a lot harder than killing someone who can kill you. So, what does he do? He can't leave Travis, he could identify him. Can't bring himself to kill him. All he can do is take him."

Alex inhaled slowly. "What happens when Travis wakes up?"

Dr. Ryan moved to sit on the edge of the bed, her eyes darkening in thought. "He'll be in no position to harm the killer, I imagine. And if he can't hurt anyone, then the killer may still be unable to bring himself to do finish what he started. He may leave Travis somewhere to, well, to die. Somewhere isolated where there would be little chance of someone finding him…alive." Ryan paused a beat. "Wes, I wanted to give you some time to grieve before I said anything; I was afraid what it might do."

Wes felt his heart pound against his chest, and for a second he was afraid it might burst right through. "What is it?"

"They found a police officer: stabbed to death. He was two miles from where Waltham was found."

Wes swore loudly. He kicked the dresser and swore louder. His body tensed like a livewire, and he ran a hand through his hair so roughly it hurt.

"He's working his way up." He forced through clenched teeth. "The bastard is going to keep killing until he works his way up to killing Travis then the whole thing starts again."

"But Travis is safe for now. As terrible as this sounds, this could be good. This gives you more clues to find whoever did this." Alex said, looking between the others.

Ryan looked at her sadly. "Unfortunately, our killer seems to have a penchant for violent behavior as the stabbing suggested. I'm afraid it may be only days before…" She looked down at her hands. "Well, before Travis…expires."

* * *

Travis was missing for fifty-three days. By Day Four, Wes was back at work. By Day Fifteen, Sutton could only afford to keep four detectives on the case. Murdered police officers stopped on Day Seventeen. The next day, Wes curled up on his bed and cried so hard his stomach rolled, and he wretched all over the hotel carpet. In some sick way it reminded him of the time he and Travis accidently inhaled some drugs from a bust. They had laughed so hard and the room spun so bad they threw up in the warehouse corner.

Alex wouldn't leave him alone. She slept on a cot in his room; he passed out on her couch. He didn't go to group; there was no _couple_ anymore.

"Wes, we need to talk." Alex said softly as she watched her ex pour over files that had become a permanent fixture on her dining table. He didn't respond. "I want to believe Travis is alive just as much as you do, I really do, but you can't—"

"Don't say it." Wes gave her a hard stare with eyes red from lack of sleep. "Don't say anything."

"All I'm saying is that you should slow down. You can't help anyone like this."

"I can't slow down, not while he's still out there." Wes yelled as jabbed a finger to the door. He looked away from her, training his eyes on the files. They were engraved in his mind at this point but he still went over them with the slightest glimmer of hope of catching something he may have missed.

"I love Travis so much, and I would give anything for him to be alright." Alex cried as he turned his back to her. "But this is killing you."

"This," Wes swept a hand over the files, "is killing Travis and _annoying_ you."

"Don't you dare say that." Alex's expression was tinged with guilt. "But I told you, a hundred times, it was dangerous. And, God…Travis was such a good man but do you see now? Wes, I don't want to lose you, not like that." She raked her hair from her face, giving a stuttering exhale as she watched him grab his jacket. "Where are you going?"

"Out. I need…I need to think. Travis is still alive and I can't give up on him." He locked eyes with her. "He's my partner, and I know he'd do the same for me."

He drove for a bit, rubbing sleep from his eyes until he couldn't stand the tight space or flashing lights of the city. With a heavy sigh, Wes went back to his apartment, his feet feeling like lead. As soon as he opened the door, a foul smell, a mixture of defecation, bile, and piss, assaulted his nose. Quietly, Wes drew his gun from its holster on his waist and opened the door slowly.

"Is there anyone here? Don't move or I'll shoot." Wes called into the darkened room. He flipped on a light switch before covering his nose in the crook of his elbow.

"Alright, I want you to come out slowly." He ordered, voice muffled by his arm.

There was a shuffling behind the door to the bathroom, like rats in the darkened alleyways.

"I know you're here." Wes growled. "Open the door slowly."

The door creaked open a crack and a person peered through to look at the Detective.

Wes had never, and know would never, know a pair of blue eyes quite like Travis'. He knew, even through the finger-sized crack, he _knew_ it was the other man.

Wes dropped his gun and threw open the door in one fluid motion, catching the missing detective off guard as he threw his arms around him and brought them crashing to the ground. Even though Travis had a full grown beard and reeked all seven circles of hell, Wes held on for dear life.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN- I shouldn't write multi-chapter fics; I get grand ideas in the time between updates. So now this may be two chapters longer unless I can curb my overzealous love of writing…**

Travis squirmed and writhed violently as if an animal caught in a trap. Quiet whimpering accentuated his struggling, making Wes let go almost immediately.

"Are you hurt? Did he hurt you? God, you're alive." Wes breathed. He reached out to try and examine the dried patch of blood caked on his friend's forehead but withdrew his hand when he flinched.

Wes slid back a foot, watching Travis tremble and cast furtive glances across the floor under his scrutinizing stare.

He called the other's name gently. "Travis, how did you get here? Can you tell me what happened?"

Travis drew his knees up to his chest and began to rock, a low whine emanating from between his lips. Wes opened his mouth in the effort to say something comforting, but Travis merely covered his ears and shut his eyes, the whine increasing in volume. The blonde sat back, his stomach rolling, and studied his friend. He took shallow breaths against the noxious fumes.

Travis just wasn't _Travis_. Like the way a snake sheds its skin, he had become the empty remnant left behind. The clothes he had worn when he first disappeared were in tatters, stiff with what looked like all bodily fluids, waste and dirt. His eyes were sunken in, clothes loose. Every exposed area of skin was covered in filth. Blood had flowed from his forehead and dried in streaks across his eyes, his cheeks. The laces of his shoes were missing.

"Are you hurt?" Wes asked again, loud enough to be heard. "I'll take you to the hospital. Alright, Travis?"

When the other man didn't reply, Wes touched his hand. It was a feather light touch, but Travis reacted severely. He jerked back so quickly, he hit his head against the bathroom wall. With a grunt, he immediately pushed himself as far into the corner as he could manage where he promptly curled into a ball. A hideous moan began to well up in his chest to echo off the walls. Wes clapped a hand over his mouth, biting down on the thick calluses his gun had made to muffle a sob.

"Just…stay here, Travis." He ordered almost absentmindedly. He got to his feet, brow furrowed in confusion as he patted down his pockets. "I'm going to, uh, make a, uh, phone call."

As Wes left the bathroom, Travis quieted somewhat but began to hum tunelessly. A shiver ran down Wes' spine.

He brought the phone to his ear and listened as it rang. Once. Twice.

"Wes, it's two in the morning." His mother's voice was heavy with sleep. "What's wrong?"

As soon as the words left her mouth, Wes let out a strangled sob and collapsed. Like gears in an unwound clock, his legs just stopped working. He felt like his was unraveling, his entire body ached to the marrow of his bones and his heart seemed to stutter in his chest. He dragged himself upright to sit against the bed, the frame digging into his back. He didn't care. Roughly, he dragged his fingers through his hair until he thought he might draw blood then gave a faltering exhale.

"Wes? Wes, honey, what's wrong?" His mother was alert now. "Are you hurt?"

"No, Mom." His sobbed. His nose was running and spit was collecting in the corners of his mouth, but he barely noticed. "It's Travis."

She gave a quiet little sob, the expected show of sympathy. "Are you alright? That poor boy's families. I'm so sorry, Wes. How terrible to bury a friend, and you spoke so highly of him."

"He's still alive, Ma. He's just…" He pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the sob building in his chest. "Look, I'm sorry I called so late. I just needed—I don't know. I have to get back. Travis needs me."

"You call anytime _you_ need me."

Wes gave a quick goodbye before he hung up. Wiping the tears roughly from his cheeks, Wes took a deep breath and dialed another number. It didn't take but one ring.

"Travis is back, Cap."

Travis wouldn't budge from the bathroom corner, wouldn't let Wes go near him with a wet cloth, wouldn't say a word. As soon as Wes left for a clean set of clothes, Travis locked the door. The blonde was kneeling by the door, pleading softly for him to open the door when there came a knock. A tiny whimper came from the bathroom.

"Thanks for coming, Cap." Wes said as he opened the door.

Sutton stood there, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his coat and eyes red with lack of sleep. He waited for Wes to move aside before he entered.

"You kidding?" His nose wrinkled at the smell that still lingered. "I'd walk the Earth if it kept you boys safe. If God is kind you'll never become a Captain. Wes,…what is that smell?"

"It's…it's Travis." Wes folded his arms tightly over his chest as he looked over at the bathroom. "He's bad off. I called because _I_ can't even go near him. I don't know how he'd react around too many people."

Sutton ran a hand over his mouth as he paused in thought for a second. "I want the bastard who did this. Did he say anything? What happened, how he got here?"

Wes shook his head. "Not a word. I was Alex's so I don't know how long he's been here. It's was like…I don't know, like he was waiting for me."

Sutton rapped on the door lightly. "Open the door, son."

"I tried that." Wes whispered only to quiet when the Captain shot him a look from the corner of his eye.

"Travis, I just want to make sure you're alright." Sutton's voice was placating, like talking to a child. "So, you can open the door for me or I can pick the lock. And after, we can get some food in you."

After a few seconds, there was a shuffling on the other side of the door, a second of silence then the faint click of the lock. Sutton slowly opened the door, unable to help the gagging sound when he got full view of his detective. The missing detective sat in the corner with his hands clenched, nostrils flared and eyes staring at the ground.

"Why don't you come out, son?" Sutton gestured for him to come forward, but Travis wouldn't budge until they were well out of the way. He padded out of the bathroom, keeping a wall to his back until he sat in the corner beside the window. Sutton took a seat a few feet away.

"Wes, give us a minute." Sutton looked over his shoulder at the other detective.

"Of course, Captain. I'll just run out for a bit."

The Captain waited for the door to close before he spoke. "You really know how to put the scare in an old man." He gave a short humorless laugh before he grew serious. "I missed you, son. Everything's different without you. Everyone looks like hell. One look at your desk and it's like you've been hit, right here." He tapped his chest, right above the heart. "And I looked over at that desk everyday, thinking that you're there and sometimes I..." Sutton coughed to keep from crying. "But I know my detectives. I know _you_. I know you, son. I didn't think for one second—"

It was as inevitable as the rain. Sutton held a hand over his eyes and wept. As he did, Travis looked at him, fixed his gaze on a point on the Captain's left shoulder and stared. After a moment, Sutton sniffed a few times then cleared his throat.

"But I'll get you through this." He promised. "And I guarantee it'll be hard, but we'll make this right. How'd you get out, Travis? What happened?"

As soon as he said it, the detective became agitated. A groan escaped his lips as he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head vigorously. Sutton draped his coat over his thin trembling frame, and kneel beside him, not touching but there.

"Alright, son. You're safe now. You don't have to say anything yet." Sutton rose to his feet. "But we will get you cleaned up."

Wes got back to an array of towels, washcloths, and soap along with a set of his clothes spread out on the foot of his bed. Travis had moved from the corner to sit cross-legged beside the bed, arms hugging his torso. He cast a fearful glance toward Wes' direction before he returned his gaze to the floor. Sutton was sprawled on the bed, snoring lightly with a hand atop his stomach.

"Looks like the Captain's down." Wes commented to no one in particular as he dropped his own bag of stuff onto the floor. "Thanks, Cap."

Travis closed his eyes and shook his head slightly as if to clear it. His throat was working, trying to choke out words. Wes had his back to him, gathering the towels and things in his arms. Travis' lips moved with silent words.

"After you get cleaned up, we can eat. I didn't get much; I don't want you getting sick." Wes talked mostly to himself, completely unaware that Travis was trying to speak. The blonde disappeared into the bathroom to deposit all the materials.

"Hey, Trav, everything's ready." He called as he felt the water. He turned to leave, jumping when he found his friend standing only a few feet away. His eyes were downcast and he seemed to wilt under the other man's stare.

"God, Travis, what happened to you?" Wes breathed. He took a step toward him, stopping short when he recoiled. "I'm sorry, you know. I'm…I'm no good without you. I couldn't find you, couldn't save you from _this_. And it's like I've screwed up everything that matters." Wes shook his head with a heavy sigh. "I can't go rewind things. I can only help you now, here. Maybe after what happened you don't want my help, maybe you do. I don't know. I'm not…qualified, trained, mentally capable, able, or even _competent_ to help you with what you're going through. I don't even understand it, but I'm here for you, a thousand percent because you're my friend, my…my partner and, above all, you deserve that."

"Wes." Travis' voice made Wes both jump and wince. It was like metal being dragged along grave. "Wes, help." He choked out, eyes squeezed shut as if it pained him and shoulders slumped in defeat. At last he glanced up to meet Wes' gaze for one helpless filled second. "Everything…hurts."

Travis stepped around him, trying and failing to unbutton his shirt with trembling fingers. Wes gently moved his hands, tugged and pried the clothes from his body to shove them in separate bags. Travis took his lower lip between his teeth to bite back cries of pain as wounds were opened. Even though Wes had seen him naked before, the horrific situation brought them to another level of disgust and embarrassment.

He didn't have the strength to keep up a vigorous scrubbing. After a few minutes, he sat on the floor under the spray and stuck his hand out to signal Wes with a wave of the cloth. Wes shed his shirt to avoid soaking in the warm water, and scrubbed gently at his friend's back. He forcefully made his mind wander to other things, overlooking the areas where the dirt had been cleaned to expose the mass of bruises. Travis shied away from his hand every so often, sometimes he flinched, but kept his lips pressed in a thin line and concentrated his gaze on one spot. He scrubbed at his friend's back, going through three bars of soap and two washcloths before he could see skin. When he cleared a large enough patch, he peered closely and had to suppress the urge to vomit.

"Travis, are these…those are burns."

The injured detective ignored him, keeping his eyes trained on one spot. Wes took a moment, but let the matter drop to concentrate on scrubbing the filth away.

"I need to ask you something." Wes said as he scrubbed shampoo through the wild mass of hair for the sixth time. "Just nod or shake your head. Whoever did this to you, could they…are they…?"

After a beat, Travis shook his head.

"Good. Rinse off, I'll grab towels."

Wes focused on another time; beer with Travis, Hudson nearly shoving him out his own bed, Alex walking down the aisle, anything to avoid thinking of Travis' concentration camp physique, the burns and bruises, the freshly bleeding wounds. Travis had the towel wrapped around his waist as he exited the shower. And Wes could see it, his legs buckle, and he caught him in his arms. They were chest to chest, bare and still warm from the shower. Travis tensed like a livewire, his jaw clenched. He tried to push away but his head swam and he gave a quiet sigh as he slumped against the other.

"Hey, Trav, you ok?" Wes held his injured friend at arm's length, and watched as his head lolled forward, eyes half-mast. Wes shook him lightly and almost immediately Travis' eyes snapped open and he gave a strangled cry as he looked around fearfully. Sutton snuffled and groaned in the other room.

"Look at me." Wes ordered as he guided his friend to sit on the closed toilet lid. "Do you know where you are? You're at my place with me and the Captain. You're safe and, and clean and, most important, no one is going to hurt you. Do you hear me, Travis? _No one _is going to hurt you."

Travis locked eyes with Wes and repeated his name in whispered breaths.

"I'm here, Trav. I'm not going anywhere."


	3. Chapter 3

**AN- My mind works in pictures, brief episodes that I write down. So, I had the WORST time trying to connect any events in this chapter, but I believe it turned out nicely. Hope you enjoy and many thanks to 129.**

Alex shuffled to the front door at the sound of a persistent knocking. Her eyes were half-mast as she pulled her robe tighter around her body. When she looked through the peephole, a sense of urgency settled in, and she opened the door as fast as she could.

"Wes, it's nearly six in the morning." She folded her arms over her chest, trying to block out the early morning chill. "I haven't heard from you since last night. What's wrong?"

The detective took a deep breath, hands on his hips, and seemed to ruminate on the question before he gave a quiet sigh of "Travis".

Alex's hand immediately flew to her mouth in an instant reaction. "Is he…?"

"He's in the driveway." He blocked her path when she made to step over the threshold. "You can't…just not yet. OK?"

"Wes, what's wrong with you?" She gave a nervous little smile. "You're scaring me. Travis is back isn't he? He's alright?" She looked at him expectantly, pleadingly.

He shook his head. "He's not, Alex. He turned up in my hotel room…God only knows how he got in. Every touch, he thinks you're going to, I don't know, _hit_ him. I mean, I know we got in a few fights but it's not like he couldn't…." He rubbed a hand roughly over his mouth, unintentionally giving the doorframe a hard stare. "He's scared, nervous, _terrified_. He refuses to sleep, won't shut his eyes for more than a second if he can help it."

"Take a breath." She ordered calmly. "I've never seen you like this."

"I've never dealt with anything like this." Wes shook his head almost imperceptibly, taking the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth without thought. He leaned back slightly to get a better view of the driveway. "He won't even talk. _Travis_ won't talk. He said a few words after a couple hours, my name, and then nothing. And he's got…maybe it wasn't the best, but I had to take him to the hospital. He completely broke down. It took hours to get him to go back in the car. I tried—"

Before he could say another word, Alex brushed pass him to make her way to where Travis was pacing the width of her driveway. He was dressed in a pair of Wes' shorts, a belt poking from beneath the black hoodie. The clothes hung from his thin frame. The sleeves had been pushed mid-way to his elbows, revealing a mass of bruising and wrists covered with light bandages. He had clenched his right hand into a fist but his left, with two splinted fingers, were twitching at his side. Though Alex had stopped only few away from him, Travis ignored her. He seemed to have shut the world out.

"Travis. Oh, Travis." Alex hugged herself tightly as she watched him ground to a halt, startled at the sound of his name. She blinked away tears.

"Ever since we got back from the hospital, all he does is pace." Wes explained quietly as he stood beside her. "He got claustrophobic at my place all of a sudden. Could we, maybe use the living room until he calms down a bit?"

Travis shifted his weight from one foot to another, fidgeting under Alex's scrutinizing stare.

"You can stay as long as you need to." She answered.

The injured detective had seated himself at the kitchen island at Wes' prompting, his gaze resolutely fixed on the countertop. Wes and Alex tried not to, but they couldn't help but stare. The seconds ticked by in uneasy silence.

"You could use a trim." Alex said almost absentmindedly.

"Alex." Wes' voice held a note of warning as Travis tensed at her words. "He doesn't need to go out. Not any time soon."

"Well, he doesn't need to." She replied. "My dad left his clippers from when he had that extended stay. I could do it."

Wes snorted. "I don't think Travis wants you anywhere near his face with a blade."

Alex dismissed him and leaned on the island opposite Travis. "It's too bad we converted the spare bedroom into an office. You look tired, Travis."

"He won't want to sleep." Wes said as if reminding a child.

Alex drummed her fingers on the countertop as she glared from the corner of her eye. "And why do you think you know what he wants?"

"Because I know him."

"Oh, please." She gave a sigh somewhere between exasperation and annoyance. "I think I know him a bit better than you."

Wes crossed his arms, looking slightly hurt. "And why's that?"

"Because he talks to me." Alex replied easily as he turned and absently began washing his hands.

"He talks to me." He absentmindedly began to shift through the contents of her fridge with an air of easy familiarity.

"But you only hear what you want to hear." She idly prepared a pot of coffee with barely a glance. "And God forbid anyone disagrees with you."

"Travis disagrees with me all the time, yet he seems to be the only one willing to work with me on anything." Wes set a variety of fruits on a plate and began to cut them into smaller portions, barely bothering to look.

"Well, maybe if you spent a little time in couples therapy with me, I'd be able to work with you." She set three mugs in a row and started dropped varying amounts of sugar in each.

"Travis can't have any." He said, stopping her on the last mug. "And are you really going to make this about you?"

She put a mug back. "No. I was trying to make this about Travis, but obviously I can't do that without addressing your lack of understanding of other people's needs."

"I underst—" Wes had shifted, and from the corner of his eye saw Travis slumped over.

Travis, free of any more analyzing stares, had pillowed his head with his arms. The intent was to only close his eyes for a moment, but exhaustion dragged him into a comatose-like sleep. His eyes darted beneath his lids. He twitched and gave a whispered moan.

"Should we wake him?" Alex asked. "Move him to the couch or something?"

"No, I don't want to risk him staying up any longer. Who knows when the last time he slept was." Wes moved to carefully drape a thin blanket over his friend's shoulders, resisting the urge to give him even a small comforting pat on the back.

"Um, coffee's ready." She said after a moment. He realized he had been standing over the other detective, lost in thought.

Wes held his mug in both hands, savoring the warmth. Alex sat beside him on the couch with her legs tucked beneath her. She sipped slowly at her coffee, watching him from lowered lashes. She watched him roll the mug between his palms, watched him take a deep steadying breath. She saw the tear well up in the corner of his eye, saw him blink it away.

"It's…_weird_." He said suddenly, quietly. "Him being back, I mean. He's been gone so long, but sometimes it feels like he never left. _Most_ times I feel like he's not the Travis I know, and he won't ever be. I wanted him back so badly, I didn't think…"

"Travis needs us, all of us, to focus on helping him get better." She replied softly. "We can't think of what he's not. And maybe Dr. Ryan can help. Travis knows her so it's minimal stress for him."

Wes nodded. "I've been so worried about what I can do for him, I didn't even think about her. I'll give her a call in a few hours. But between Sutton, you, the hospital, I don't know if he can take anyone else just yet." His brow furrowed as he glanced back at Travis. "Of all the places he could have gone, I find him at my place."

Alex shrugged slightly. "He likes you."

"But after what happened? Why me?" He rubbed his cheek wearily. "I'm just trying to understand…why _me_?"

"Wes, you're his only committed relationship." She said after a moment. There was a slight tone in her voice that suggested it was a sudden realization. "You're…safe to him. You're reliable."

The detective gave a sad little half smile. "Not always." He took a sip of his coffee. "You don't have to wait up with me. I know you have work in a few hours."

"I can call in if you want help with Travis."

"No, we'll be fine." Wes replied with conviction. "Besides, he's not going anywhere. He won't leave my sight."

* * *

Travis woke with a strangled scream that made Wes instinctively reach to his waist for a gun that wasn't there. After a split second, realization set in, and he ran to his friend's side, barking his shin on the coffee table in his haste.

The injured detective clawed at the blanket in post sleep confusion and toppled to the ground with a dull thud and a low moan. Avoiding Wes' touch, he scrambled back blindly until he backed himself into a corner where he shut his eyes and held his head in his hands.

"Stop. Stop, please. Stop." He groaned piteously.

Wes kneeled before him, waving a hand at Alex as she attempted to draw closer.

"Travis, we're at Alex's. Remember?" He said softly. "You came to my hotel room. The captain came, I took you to the hospital. We got you fixed up."

"Not real not real not real." Travis squeezed his eyes tighter and a sob escaped his lips. "Can't…breath. Can't see."

"Just calm down. Take a deep breath." Wes ordered.

"Shut up." Travis was panting now, nostrils flared as he struggled for breath. "Not real." He gave another sob. "Wes."

"I'm here, Travis. I'm right in front of you if you just open your eyes."

The injured detective shook his head vehemently. "Too dark." He spasmed and let out a sharp cry. "B-burning…hurts. Stop. Please. Help. Wes. Wesweswesweswes. I'm alive. Still alive." He pulled at his hair and a soft whine built up in his chest, escaping through clenched teeth.

Wes felt his heart stutter in his chest. It hurt so badly, tearing it out would have been an improvement. He knew it wasn't the best idea, it wasn't even a good one, but he wrapped his arms loosely around his friend. He hung on through the cries in his ears and the jerking and writhing. Travis struggled as best he could and somehow his nose nestled in the crook of Wes' neck. It took but a breath and he calmed slightly.

"I've got you." Wes murmured in his ear, embracing him just a little tighter. "You're alive, Travis. You're safe." He felt the other's heart race beneath his fingertips, but his breathing had steadied. "Better?" Wes whispered.

Travis gave a shaky breath and nodded once, his beard scratching at the blonde's neck.

Wes shifted so he sat more comfortably, an arm still around Travis. The injured detective let out a puff of air and brought a hand up to scratch at his beard.

"Alex was right though." Wes said. "You do need a shave. If you don't want to, I won't mention it again."  
Travis didn't reply for a moment. He pushed himself deeper under Wes' arm and hugged his knees to his chest before he nodded once.

* * *

"I told you there wasn't any reason to worry." Alex said with a slight smirk as she set the clippers down on the table.

Wes leaned forward to examine his partner's new haircut. He pursed his lips as he gave grudging nod. "Well, it's passable."

Without prompting, Travis got up from his seat and walked quickly to the bathroom. Wes stood in the doorway with his hands shoved in his pockets. He wasn't sure how Travis would react to the bruising he could now see.

Travis trailed his fingers lightly over his jaw, his tongue pushing against his cheek. "Better." He said quietly.

"He's still in the bathroom, admiring your handiwork." Wes leaned against the wall as Alex cleaned up the last bit of hair. "Thanks for that."  
"Whatever I can do." Alex gave a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes before she reached into the cabinet for a bottle of wine. "Want a glass?"

"It's still morn—"

"Wes, it has been a _long _past few hours. I'm going to drink as much as I want then call in sick. You can join me or you can watch."

"One glass." Wes conceded. "That's it."

They sat across from one another, watching the morning light play on their drinks. Alex knocked her drink back in one go and poured herself another. She sipped more slowly this time.

"Wes…"She hesitated, giving a sigh as she bit nervously at her lip. After a second, she locked eyes with him. "What happened to Travis's wrists?"

Wes stared for a moment, his face an impassive mask. "The nurse said it looked like he tried to kill himself. Said it was a possibility."

"What did you say?"

"I told her she was an idiot." Wes took a long drink and sighed. "I told her she didn't know Travis."


	4. Chapter 4

**I hate writing any chapter but the first and last. **

It was quiet but for the cars whizzing by and the high trill of birds. Wes pulled up in front of Alex's house and cut the engine. He leaned back against the chair and looked over at his friend with a small half smile. Travis had his eyes closed and headphones on, nodding to music emitting from the new iPod Wes bought to replace the old one. After a moment, he realized the car was no longer moving and opened his eyes. Without looking at Wes, he got out the SUV and went to the trunk for the grocery bags.

"I got these." Wes said as he came up beside him. "You can go inside."

Travis turned on his heel and headed for the door, his heads shoved in the pockets of his too large jeans. Wes watched him for a second. It felt strange still, seeing this side of Travis. He wore his own clothes, and only because Wes brought them from his apartment.

Travis wouldn't go near his own place, would barely give his motorcycle a glance. Not as if Wes would even let him ride it yet. It was as though Travis was trying to shun the things he loved before the incident. With Dr. Ryan and Wes' persistence, they managed to get him to say as much as a full sentence a day. Without persistence or if he simply didn't want to, Travis would remain silent.

He couldn't be alone, but he couldn't stand people. With so many from the force and foster families trying to see him, Wes worked out another deal with his friend for a room for two. Travis screamed at night. Sometimes he groaned but mostly he screamed. The only thing that calmed him was Wes. By the third night, Wes pushed the beds together and put a nightlight on Travis' side. Though they fell asleep with at least a foot of space between, he would always wake to find them spooned together. He would sighed quietly and wait for Travis to wake before he moved.

"Would you like some help?" Dr. Ryan's voice came from behind.

The detective turned to look at her, startled out his reverie. "No, it's just a couple bags. You're early." He said as he loaded the bags in one arm before he closed the trunk.

"Yes, Travis' party doesn't start for another hour." She replied with an ever-present small smile. "I've come to offer my services in case you need help preparing anything."

"Well, Sutton's commanding the grill and Alex won't let me touch anything." He walked inside and met Alex in the kitchen where he greeted her with a slight smile before he set down the bags. "Hey, Alex. Where'd Travis go?" His heart gave a stutter when he found his friend absent.

Alex smiled at Ryan and replied, "He just went out back. I think Sutton's trying to feed him that non-alcoholic beer."

"I'm surprised no one else is here early." Ryan said, an eyebrow rose in curiosity. "They've been quite…diligent in trying to see him."

"A couple parked around the corner." Alex replied. "And a few drive by every now and then."

"Captain threatened them with suspension if they came too early." Wes explained. "And Travis' brother, Money, talked to his family."

Dr. Ryan looked between Alex and Wes and cleared her throat. "If you don't mind, I think I'll see how Travis and the captain are getting on."  
Wes' gaze flicked up to watch her leave before he turned to his ex. "Thanks again for letting us borrow the yard."

"It's not a problem, Wes." She responded as she filled a couple snack bowls. "How are you holding up?"

"Good." He lied. He saw the knowing look on her face. "I'm looking at a house." His voice was tinted with false cheer. "Two bedroom. Quiet area."

"For you or Travis?"

"Does it matter?" He matched her questioning look with his own, though his was tinged with annoyance. "We can't stay in a hotel room forever, and he won't go near his apartment."

Alex sighed. "Wes, Travis…"

"What?" He asked when she simply let her voice trail off.

She shook her head. "Never mind." She concentrated on the snacks.

He watched her for a moment, hands on his hips as he gave her a curious stare. Finally, he gave a heavy sigh and said, "I'm going to check on Travis."

Ryan and Sutton stood at the grill with non-alcoholic beer in their hands. They exchanged a smile and wave with Wes as he came out the door. Travis sat beneath the tree on the opposite side of the lawn, cross-legged on the thick grass. He held his hand up to his face to watch a thin little spider trundle up his thumb. He looked up as the other detective drew near and set the spider on the grass.

"Mind if I join you?" Wes asked. The sun made a halo around his head. Travis shrugged a reply before he lay on the grass, arms spread wide.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to." Wes said as he sat down. "We can get out of here, grab that burger you've been wanting."

Travis remained silent, thumbing blades of grass. He threw his arm up against the sun and turned away from his partner.

"You're not going to talk today?" Wes drew his knees up and crossed his arms on top. He breathed in the cool breeze and saw his friend shiver. "If you're cold, I brought your jacket. You want me to get it?" He didn't expect a response, but he waited a second before he began to rise to his feet.

Travis called his name quietly before he stood. His eyes were still shaded and head still turned away. He held out a brochure, folded and worn.

"Travis, this is…why are you giving me this?" Wes asked as he scanned the paper. "Why do you have this?"

On the brochure were pictures of smiling patients in white robes, white sterile hallways and joyful nurses in blue scrubs. Wes saw the words 'psych ward' in large letters in his mind and thought of small rooms with too many beds and bars on windows. He saw drugged up patients shuffling through the halls with saggy hospital socks.

"It's your way out." Travis said quietly. "I need help, but it shouldn't be you." He took his hand from his eyes and turned to his friend. "This is your thank you party."

Wes felt his chest grow tight, his breath hitch, his eyes burn. "You're an idiot." His voice cracked but held no malice. "Don't read this stuff; it'll give you terrible ideas." He looked away and ran a hand roughly over his face. He sniffed and let the air out through his mouth in a shaky breath. "I, uh, found this house we can look at. Maybe you'd like that." He bounced his knee in a sudden burst of energy, afraid to cry. "It doesn't have to be permanent, just until you, uh, get better. If you want to. I'm…I'm gonna get your jacket for you."

Wes threw the brochure on the counter, and Alex glanced at it with a sigh.

"He told you." She whispered.

"Did you give it to him?" He snapped as he paced a few feet back and forth.

"Of course not, Wes." Alex brushed the brochure into the trash, lip turned up slightly in disgust. "He just told me about it a few minutes ago. I thought you knew until you said you were looking at a _house_. I even tried to talk him out of it, but he just walked out."

"This is…" Wes shook his head. "He's not going. No, not him."

Alex leaned on the island opposite him. "Wes, he's a grown man. You can't make these decisions for him."

"I can with this." Wes' voice was a step away from yelling, and he jabbed a finger at nothing in particular. "He says he's doing it for me. _Me_. I don't want this."

Alex looked at him sadly for a moment. "Have you ever known Travis to rely on anyone for anything? Now he's relying on you and he's scared. Look at what you're doing. Wes, you're looking at a house. _A house_. We've been trying forever to get you to get your own place and now you jump at it for Travis."

The detective stopped pacing and leaned against the island, fingers splayed over the counter. "What else am I supposed to do?" He breathed as he looked at her pleadingly. "He's my friend. I…I love him."

She came around suddenly and hugged him fiercely. "I know. Take it easy on him. It's like learning to walk again."

He buried his nose in the crook of her neck and took in a deep steadying breath. "You talk to Dr. Ryan too much. You're starting to sound like her."

"Right now, is that such a bad thing?" She stepped back, a hand cupping his cheek for a moment before she let it drop.

"No. I just wish things were so much simpler."

Travis took refuge between Ryan and Sutton at the grill when the sound of people coming in filled his ears. He shifted his weight nervously between his feet.

Dr. Ryan touched his arm lightly. "Perhaps you'd feel better if you went to them. Meet them on your own terms so to speak."

Sutton put his tongs down. "I'll come with you. Dr. Ryan, if you could, ah…" He eyed the grill and she replied with an enthusiastic "sure".

There was a small group that was growing steadily at the front door. Travis took a deep breath at the sound of his name and forced a nervous smile on his lips. In front of all these people, he was determined to at least try and pretend to be the Travis they knew. Wes stood by him as Kendall kissed both cheeks and Jonelle pulled him into a rough hug before she held him at arm's length for a moment. Travis felt his stomach do a flip and his heart pound. He felt his neck and ears grow warm. Without meaning to, his eyes were downcast and he took a step back from the crowd only to feel the Captain's comforting hand on his shoulder. Travis tensed at the touch for a moment until he looked over to see Sutton's look of reassurance. The injured detective gave a pained smile, unable to answer their questions or reply to their consolations.

Alex's voice could be heard over the din, directing people to the back toward the grill and turning some attention to herself. As the focus was taken off himself for the briefest second, Travis used it to slip out the door, pass his coworkers and family. Wes and Sutton followed.

"Key." Travis held out his hand, nostrils flared as he breathed quickly.

Wes took out his keys but refrained from handing them over. "What are you trying to do?"

"Please." Travis stared at him pleadingly.

With pursed lips, Wes handed over his keys. "I'm coming though."

"I'll stay." Sutton said. "Hold down the fort."

Travis drove in silence, obviously unnerved and highly uncomfortable. His lips were pressed in a thin line, his body tense as a livewire. Wes cast worried glances in his direction every few minutes, but let his friend drive in silence. Neither of them even thought to turn on the radio.

"Travis, where are we?" Wes asked as they drove onto a private street, pass over a mile of empty fields. Finally, he stopped outside a dilapidated barn house. Before Wes could open his mouth, Travis took the keys and bolted out the car. The younger detective fumbled with the seatbelt in his haste. When he finally managed to free himself, he had to run to catch his partner at the door.

Travis pulled the door open and they were immediately overwhelmed by the smell of death and defecation. Wes threw his arm up to cover his nose, but Travis took a step in, beyond Wes' reach. The blonde pushed the doors open wider and his lip curled up in disgust at the scene that was revealed by the light. In the streams of light pouring through the door was a body with its head bashed in, bloated and purple with maggots writhing across its skin. Blood was splattered on the floor, on the door, on the cattle prod dropped by the body. Travis circled it once, staring at the body as if uncertain how to act.

"This is…" Wes felt bile rise in his throat, and he took a deep breath, forgetting the noxious fumes. He leaned against the doorframe and wretched outside on the weeds hugging the rotting boards in front. His head spun.

"Travis, come back." He called, unable to look back inside. When there was no reply, the detective steeled his nerves and looked. His hands shook.

Travis was slowly backing up from the body until he hit a rusting deep freezer. He turned and stared at it in stupefied amazement. Wes gave the body a wide berth to avoid destruction of evidence and made his way to his friend. The smell emanating from the deep freezer was so foul, Wes thought he might choke on it.

"He put me in there, hands tied behind my back." Travis said as if he was stating the weather. "There was nothing but the dark and the sound of my breathing. I tried to count minutes, hours, days. I could have been in there for years for all I knew." He looked at Wes, eyes red-rimmed and glassy. "I heard things, things that couldn't be there. I saw things that only come in my nightmares.

"He came one night, one day, with a…a pickaxe and drove a hole right here." He pointed to a jagged hole punched through the freezer. "It caught my shoulder, just barely, and I remember being relieved. _Relieved_ because it wasn't in my head. I didn't imagine it."

"Travis, come on. Let's get out of here and call it in." Wes said through the hand he had clasped over his mouth and nose. "It's over now."

Travis looked at him sharply. "_Over_?" He repeated incredulously, his lips trembling and voice cracking. "I relive this every time I close my eyes. I have to remember how he stuck that thing," he stuck a finger at the cattle prod, "into there and fucking electrocuted me _over_ and _over_ until I couldn't even scream. I couldn't defend myself. I have to remember waking up to water filling my nose because he fixed a hose to the hole and tried to drown me. I cut my wrists and hands getting it out the hole, cutting those fucking zip ties on the hole he made with a fucking _pickaxe_. And you people want me to walk around like the Travis you knew. I'm sorry, so fucking sorry, but I can't." He was yelling and tears were spilling on to his cheeks, but he was looking Wes in the eye.

The hand over his mouth fell, and Wes simply stared at his friend. "We tried to get you. There were so many variables. Things that didn't add up. There were suspects but no one panned out. We tried, Travis."

"Trying didn't help me." He cried. "I counted the seconds, hoping you'd come but you didn't. You didn't." He breathed. "And then I couldn't feel anything anymore. I was going crazy in there. I was banging my head on the wall just to get the noises to stop. Then I couldn't even move. He thought I was dead so he dragged me out and I saw the prod. I just _reacted_. I can't remember…I get flashes when I'm sleeping, but I always die in those." A sobbed escaped his lips suddenly and he fell to his knees, head in his hands.

Wes kneeled beside him, rubbing in circles on his friend's back, holding back his own tears. They couldn't both cry. Finally, when Travis gave a deep shuddering breath, Wes rose to his feet. He held out a hand, and Travis grasped it, hauling himself to his feet. The blonde pulled his friend into a hug, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Let me call this one in." Travis mumbled.

Wes nodded. He held Travis' hand and led the way the door, out into the light.

_End_


End file.
